Ereinion's Love
by Serinde
Summary: Argh, this summary is so hard to write! This is a short fic about Gil-galad, High King of the Elves of the West, and the Elven maiden who loved him... Romance. Please read... and review... etc... :)
1.

*deep breath* OK. I really, really, really am sorry for writing this, and not working on the other one. But it just begged to be written… I couldn't leave it. Please don't kill me… And so, I present to you, a totally random, kinda experimental, but hopefully moving, piece of Middle Earth's history, from the eyes of two lovers. :D

Anyway, I'll tell you a bit about it. It's a short first person thing, although exactly which person is speaking varies at points. It's really about two lovers, separated by the Sauron --- the Sauron? Woah, I'm losing it -- (may his evilness be cursed), although not exactly directly. The start is a little historical – you may need your copy of the sil handy. :) But it gets better, I promise. It's told at different times; ignore my butchering of the tenses. It happens, I don't notice, end of story. They don't teach English like they used to. ;)

PS – This may not make sense if you haven't read about the second age – well, it will still make sense hopefully, but it might get confusing. If you have – might be in the Silmarillion, might be in the appendices, might be somewhere else – and something's wrong, ignore it. This isn't going to be ongoing; it's a one-off, so I won't make corrections. Enjoy! :)

PPS – My exams start next week; will keep myself away from computer and net unless to revise. Someone flame me if I post anything during the next three weeks; that should shut me up. ;) Here goes.

~~~~~

_Gil-galad was an Elven king,_

_Of him the harpers sadly sing:_

_the last whose realm was fair and free,_

_between the mountains and the sea._

~~~~~

He is dead.

Dead, killed at the hands of one whose evil is so great I curse his name. Killed leading his men bravely into battle for the freedom of our lands. Killed, when, even from the depths of despair, he inspired hope, and resisted the shadow, strong though it was, to the last. Robbed of immortality, taken from his people.

For I loved him, Ereinion, High King of the Noldor in these lands, Gil-galad, the Star of Radiance. Many we were in those days, dwelling in the Havens at Mithlond, and before the great battle, happy were our lives. We dwelt in peace; the sun still shone bright upon the waters in the bay, our people were content. I knew of him only from tales, for I was young, and it was long since he had come to Mithlond. I knew no parents; they had long since departed across the sea, gone to the lands of Aman. For I am told that my mother was injured grievously at the hands of a band of orcs on the journey of some of my people from the southern havens; though alive, her wounds would not be healed, and so my father left with her to seek healing and rest in the blessed lands of the Valar. Thus it was that I was cared for by my aunt in the haven of Mithlond, at the mouth of the River Lune, and there I grew up.

For the havens also were young then; but a century since had the lands been overturned, the black fortress of Thangorodrim broken by a proud host in shining armour, a young elf been sent by his father to be cared for by Cirdan the Shipwright, then leader of our people. In those days, the faithful of the houses of men of old had departed from these lands to the blissful isle of Numenor, the Lord Elros their king, and so too did many of our people leave, though not with the same destination. My family were of those who desired not to leave Beleriand fair, though forgiveness for the deeds of the Noldor might be freely given in Aman. For the blood of the Noldor is proud; still the terrible oath sworn by our race was present in the minds of many, and they desired not forgiveness.

Long did we dwell in peace then, and 'twas in that time that I first saw him, last High King of the Elves of the West. And I wondered at his radiance, his face, and saw both a sorrow and a proudness in him. Youth, too, was in his face, though he was many years my elder. Then, it doth seem, I was still too young to understand my own heart, and perhaps it was well that I was. For though we lived long there, content, all too soon our peace was broken. Sauron the deceiver, having taken as stronghold the black land of Mordor, came to Lindon, endeavouring to treat with the Elves. To no avail with us; our king refused to welcome him. Yet some, who had left Lindon for Eregion, the craftsmen of whom Celebrimbor was lord, were seduced by him. Though we knew nothing of this at the time, of his counsel they began the forging of those which would determine the fate of all Middle Earth; the great rings of power. And so it was; the rings were made, the Three in the keeping of the Eldar of Eregion. It seemed that all was complete. Yet it was not so. Another ring was made of the skill of the elves, the final ring, the One Ring, which would govern each and every race… And thus Sauron the Dark Lord gained power. 'Twas Celebrimbor who did first perceive his designs; he took the Three, and they were hidden, in the keeping of the lords Cirdan and Gil-galad. And thence we could live no longer in peace. For Sauron's command extended from Mordor; he began to take the free lands for his own cruel dominion. Master Elrond was sent to Eregion, to drive back his armies, but to no avail – thus was the refuge of Imladris founded in the retreat of the Eldarin army.

And so it continued. Eriador was overrun with Sauron's emissaries; many were slain in defence of Lindon. Yet a sail descried on the horizon gave us hope, and at the hour of our most desperate need, the ships of our allies landed upon the shores of Middle Earth. With the aid of Numenor, Sauron was driven back.

Sauron diminished, again there was peace, for a long while. And 'twas then, in those happy years, I fell in love with the High King of the Noldor. For much time then did he spend at Mithlond, walking the streets, dining at the palace there. I remember well when I first saw him again after so many years; invited to a feast, I was seated at the end of the hall, far from the central table, yet I could not hold back my eyes from him; his face, so serene and noble, his hair long and golden, his crystal green eyes… I was entranced. I watched him the whole evening, talking and laughing merrily, yet kingly and stern. Long did I dream of him that night.

And so I continued to watch him, unattainable, yet I could not repress my heart. For I was merely one in a great crowd, not a courtier, nor even a servant. Our dwelling was not so far from the palace; when he was there, I would stand at the balcony of an evening, looking towards the palace where I knew he was. I wished so much to be near him – so much, that I presented myself as a servant in the palace, and every day I hoped against hope that I might catch a glimpse of him. Indeed I did – I was assigned to the bedchambers, to aid the head steward with the care of the rooms. And so it was that occasionally, I saw him. I might walk in a meeting by accident, or be called on to serve the guests at a feast, though never his table. Though I did not speak with him, it was enough at the time to be near him, for a moment.

Then, one day I was free from duties. But a messenger came from the palace; the head steward was ill, might I serve at tonight's feast in his place? Ai, I was happy; the head steward served the king's table. I dressed plainly, determined to blend in, and left for the palace early. And I saw him sitting there, dressed in silver and green, a single silver circlet about his forehead, his eyes sparkling. And when I served him… though I tried to be unassuming, he saw me. As I leant forward to place the dish upon the trestle, he turned his head and glanced at me, and to my surprise, his gaze lingered for a moment before turning back to his dining friends. Later, when the meal was over and I stood at one side waiting, I looked up to see him regarding me again with those intense emerald eyes. I looked quickly at the floor.

~ Gil-galad ~

Some enchantment is upon me that I cannot repress; at tonight's feast there was a maiden of such beauty I have never seen. Though perhaps she would not be called fair after the usual manner of the Eldar. For her locks are dark, and her eyes grey. It surprises me that she is a servant; she appears of a high blood for such a post. And she seems lonely... I desire much to meet her.

~ E/Gil-galad ~

I imagined he had just noticed me for being new to the palace; I dared not hope for more, as I knew well from the past the bitter taste of disappointment. Yet it seems that I was wrong, for but a day later, as I cleaned one of the chambers, I heard the door open quietly behind me.

I spun around to see who it was. Recovering quickly from my surprise and bowing low, I kept my eyes lowered deferentially.

'Lord Gil-galad.' He was smiling.

'Ereinion. Lady Latharien?' I dared to look up at him; once I looked at his face, I could not tear myself away.

'Yes, lord. Latharien is my name.'

'I have not seen you before in the palace. You are new?' He asked me.

'Yes. I live here in Mithlond, but I was not a member of the palace staff until recently.' He smiled, ai, a fair and beautiful smile.

'Will you walk with me?' I nodded, surprised, a little fearful. And so we went out to the gardens, the flowers blooming, the sun bright. And we talked, I at first hesitantly, of many things, and we sat out until nightfall. Looking back on it, it was then that I truly learned his character; he was gentle, wise, both youthful and stern, and above all, kind. I know not why he noticed me, why he even wished to talk with me, but talk we did, and the next day, and the day after that. It seemed he enjoyed being with me; I was never happier. And in time it grew easier to talk to him; he no longer seemed just the stern, kingly ruler presented to all but those close to him, of which, indeed, there were few, but a kind, perhaps a little lonely being – though it is true that amongst all the Elves in Middle Earth at that time, he was both the wisest and the noblest.

It seems a strange and unlikely turn of events that brought me to him, yet I began to fall in love with him, a far deeper love than before; not only with his appearance and glory, but himself, the great lord of the Eldar. And so we spent much time together, coming closer to each other with every night, until he asked me to come with him to the city in northern Lindon where he had to return to court. I was happy to leave with him, for I had no real attachments in Mithlond, and so we journeyed north. There I was given lodgings in the palace, and there I was truly happy. We became lovers, spending every possible moment together, though he often had business to attend to. It took time, but eventually I learnt to accept this; he was a ruler, and his people should come before his own affairs.

At times, he had to leave for other lands and cities, and then I would be left lonely again. Yet I made friends with others in the palace, and it would not be too hard to bear. And when he returned, we would always spend a full day together, each of us drawing strength and great happiness from the other's presence. We would walk in the gardens or the fields, or sometimes go to the woods nearby, content with just being together. Those summer days were the happiest times.

I should have known that it would not last forever. Now it seems that the coming of Elendil, one of the few faithful who survived the downfall of Numenor, was as the herald of my love's doom, though it seemed not at the time. He came to Lindon, telling of the wrath of the Valar upon the Numenoreans, and my lord accepted him gladly; they became close friends. A stern man was Lord Elendil, noble and fair of face for a mortal. He left soon to establish a realm in the north, and still all seemed well. Yet years later, it was heard that his sons, having landed a long way south of Lune and established their own kingdom, had been attacked by Sauron, who was again growing powerful. The elder, Isildur, had fled the city under his rule, Minas Ithil, and Sauron had taken it for his own; his brother Anarion still defended Minas Anor and Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars.

Ereinion had spoken to me of marriage just before the arrival of Elendil's messenger. I had been a little reticent, but willing – our love was both deep and true, though the thought of his rank and therefore what mine would be subsequent to the event was a little intimidating. Yet our plans were halted when the note written in Elendil's hand informed the High King of the Elves of the threat in the east. It was then that I first truly feared to lose him, though he reassured me, telling me that he would stay in Lindon unless the circumstances truly became desperate. Yet it seemed that they did indeed become so; Elendil and Isildur both came to our courts in Lindon, and together with my lord they held grave counsel. Thus it was that the Last Alliance was formed, that which would take from me my only love. Already I felt that I was losing him. He was no longer cheerful; he spent much of his time alone in deep thought, and when he came out from his chambers, he seemed grim and tired. I tried to comfort him, yet it was to no avail. Many a night he would spend sleepless, looking out to the east, ever aware of the growing shadow. I knew now that it would happen soon; he would leave Lindon to engage the menace of Sauron, far, far away, and he would not return for a long while.

But a year later, it happened. I was riding in the woods with servants while he remained in the palace, composing a letter to Elendil. When I returned, I saw their horses in the stable. My heart sank; the hour had come.

~ Gil-galad ~

Elrond and the messenger from Elendil bowed and left the room. I sat down, my head on my hand. Then I must go… this would be it, the final test. The last stand of the Elves. In which we must ultimately succeed, and rid these lands of a great evil forever, or be defeated entirely. And if it were so, none would be left alive. His armies would conquer all Middle Earth; the free peoples would be no more.

I heard the door open. There stood Latharien, her dark hair loose, falling down around her face, her troubled eyes upon on me. Something had upset her… She knew what the messenger's coming forebode. I rose, and stepped towards her. She said nothing, standing there with her hand still upon the door handle, motionless. Yet with her grey eyes she begged me, pleaded for me to stay. And indeed, I wished it could be so; the battle would be long, hard, dangerous. I looked at her steadily.

Tears coursing down her cheeks, she suddenly ran forward, stumbling, falling wordlessly into my arms. I held her tightly. She felt so alone, clinging to me, her head buried in my chest. I stroked her long, dark hair, understanding her pain. For I felt it, too; I loved her, with all of my soul. Though leaving her would be a great trial, I had to do it, for my people, the last of the Eldar in Middle Earth. I had to be strong.

I could see how much it would pain her. Yet both of us knew, as I held her weeping silently in my arms, that it was impossible for me to stay. A king must lead his men into battle, for what good is a leader who shows not example? Given the choice, I would willingly have forsaken my title and gone into exile, allowing another to lead the Eldar. Yet I knew that it could not be so.

'Latharien.' She did not let go of me. I took her hands, and raised her face so that her clear grey eyes looked into mine. Ai, she was beautiful… I loved her so, fairest of all the Eldar.

'You cannot go… please, Ereinion,' she said desperately. I shook my head sadly.

'You know that I have no choice.' She looked away.

'Could not another go?' She asked, still not looking up. She knew in her heart that no one else could go in my stead.

'Nay,' I said, 'No other can lead the Eldar. We must be strong, Latharien, for our people.'

'Aye, our people,' she said sadly.

'We have known great joy, Latharien, for which we should be grateful. If my hour is indeed come, then so be it. But you have it upon my honour, that when I return, we shall be wed, and again we shall be happy.' She did not even ask to come with me; she knew that I would not let her for fear she would be harmed. She raised her eyes to mine again; I saw suddenly there that she had known already that I would leave, and that though she had tried to be prepared, now the time was come she could not fully accept it in her heart.

We lay together for the last time that night. Throughout the final days of preparation, like a silent white shadow she did not leave my side, staying up with me through the nights. When the day of our planned departure finally dawned, she silently made ready my horse, bringing it out to the gates of the city where the host of the Eldar was assembled, the Lord Elrond, lieutenant, standing at the fore. He took the reins of my horse from her when I came out; she stood there, pale and wan, watching me walk towards them. I paused a metre or so from her; she lowered her eyes. Taking her fragile-seeming body in an embrace, I kissed and held her tight for a moment. Then I let go of her, and sprang up into the saddle. She lifted her head to kiss me lightly on the cheek; as I looked down into her eyes, I saw the great sorrow that was there, though she tried to mask it. I looked at her long and hard, memorizing her face. Tears filled her eyes; it was torture to see, written so plain in her eyes, her anguish. And then she spoke, in her clear, melodious tones, the only words since the day the messenger came.

'Do not forget me.'

It became too much to bear; it was wounding both of us grievously. I could stay no longer. I spurred my horse on, whispering as I hear the host stir behind me.

'I will never forget you, Lady Latharien. Never.'

As I looked back at the city, I saw a white figure upon the topmost balcony of the palace, her long hair blowing in the wind, looking out towards us, and singing: a single, lonely voice, beautiful in its sorrow, as she cried out in her pain to the winds.

~ E/Gil-galad ~

Read on, my friend – only one chapter to go. And it's a lot shorter than this, I promise. If you don't – well, you could review just this chapter, couldn't you? Pleeeaaase? I really should quit this grovelling stuff. If you're a nice person you'll understand my need for feedback. :)


	2. 

ARGH!!! Why can I not write short stories? Why??? Have decided that this really is too long to post as just one chapter, so will split it into two. 

Am very happy though as yesterday discovered that numberplate of father's car reads 'Elu'. Am also very annoyed with self that did not notice earlier. But hey. It says Elu. Coolest bloke alive in first – or is it second? -age, right? (Well actually, disagree, but seeing as Finarfin cannot be effectively shortened to three letters, plus fact that would be very difficult to change letters on numberplate, will remain silent.)

Disclaimer: Gil-galad is actually mine, but I'll pretend he's Tolkien's to humour everybody. :) Hmmm. Middle Earth is, regrettably, not mine; neither are all the places I've mentioned, neither is Sauron (woah), neither is anybody but Latharien. :) Ah, the more I invent, the more I find myself owning… I do take good care of my characters, you know. I let them out of their cages for their daily exercise in the mornings, I always feed them regularly… I'm a good owner. :D

Because it's meant to be read altogether, the chapters don't have names. Simple. Good excuse for me not having to think of them, isn't it? I thought so, anyway.

Now that you've read my babble, you'll have totally forgotten the first part of the fic, so go back and read chapter 1 again, then come back to this chapter but skip the disclaimer, etc. – and it'll read ok. I hope. ;) On with the story.

~~~~~

The messengers come less often now. Their news is all the same: the siege continues; there is no progress. After the victorious battle just east of Imladris, he wrote to me, telling me that all went well, that soon they would return. Yet he did not reckon of the long years that would be spent in the siege of the Dark Tower.

The siege endures still; now Anarion second son of Elendil is slain, of a stone flung from the tower. I fear for my lord, though I know that 'twould take more than a single stone to defeat him. A brave warrior is he; strong, skilled, valiant, the greatest leader the Elvenhost could have. Yet still my heart is anxious.

I wait day by day for news; no one comes. Lonely, I wander the gardens again, then the woods. They are empty, silent: not a bird sings in the trees. So too are the streets of the city; they are gone, all gone to fight. I remember the times I walked with him, as I wander now timeless; gone is the laughter, the song, the music. The city is not sleeping; it is dead.

I begin to lose hope of their return. Seven long years it has been now, and no word, not even from Elendil's city in the north. As I walk in the silent gardens, I hear the sound of hooves, perhaps a few horses, outside. There has been no rider to the city for a long while. Running to the door of the palace, I pause on the white marble steps when I see a messenger in the garb of our army, his company of two men holding the horses below. He wearily climbs the steps, bowing when he reaches me. I try to read his eyes, what news does he bring?

'Your ladyship,' he says. They have ridden hard, a long way; the horses' flanks glisten with sweat.

'I come as forerunner to the army of Elendil, and those remaining of the Elvenhost.' Those remaining… A sickness strikes my heart of a sudden.

'And what of the Lord Gil-galad?' I say, surprised at the sound of my own voice; I have not spoken in a long while. He bows his head.

'Both he and the king were slain, my lady, fighting bravely side by side, in the onslaught of the Dark Lord himself.' I am stunned. Slain… my lord… It cannot be true.

'Yet we were not wholly defeated. For the son of the King, in the darkest moments of despair, took up his father's sword, and brought down the Dark Lord. His armies were overcome; we were victorious.' He continues to tell of the battle. I hear not his words. Does he think I care for it? Nay, my lord is dead; nothing shall erase that. I curse the name of Sauron in my head. Dead… my lord is dead. As the messenger continues to relate to me the story of the siege, I flee the palace entrance. I run through the halls barefoot, to the high tower, there to stand upon the balcony. The sun begins to set; I look out to the east. Upon the plains I can see a greatly diminished host moving slowly towards Lindon; their armour shines no longer, they are battleworn, exhausted. I turn from the ruin, the supposed victory, and look out across the sea. A breeze blows, not from the sparkling waters, but from the east, out across the waves. Seabirds wheel and dive, soaring serenely through the air. How I wish I could become one of them, forget these sorrows… but I cannot. He is gone, gone from these lands. 

In my wildness I cry out for him: 'Ereinion!' The wind catches my voice, bearing it far out to sea to mingle with that of the gulls. But there is no reply. Long had I awaited his return; now I knew that he would never come back. I fell to the floor, my eyes closed, the tears running down my cheeks. Now I knew what anguish could come of such joy in the love we once had; I was broken, broken in two. This life suddenly felt as a burden to me; I wished only to leave, to leave this accursed land that had taken him from me, as I had always known it would eventually.

I know not how long I stayed there, weeping, the cries of the gulls as the lament in my heart. I knew nothing but sorrow, pain, loneliness. All I wished was for it to end, yet it did not. Never had victory tasted so bitter; indeed, I could see no victory. And so there I remained.

~~~~~

I live in hope that in the Blessed Land I will be allowed to forget the sorrows of Middle Earth. Yet the sorrow is truly in my heart, broken in two at his death. Yet as I think of it, the wound was made already, when he left Lindon, when he left me. I do not blame him; he had no choice. Yet there is still a part of me that cries out: 'Ereinion! Couldst thou not have let it be, and stayed with thy love?' For he loved me as I loved him, I know, and great too must have been his own sorrow at our parting. Maybe he shall be released from Mandos, his spirit set free, to walk again in Aman as one of the Quendi. And there, maybe, we shall meet again, and walk forever through the sweet sunny meadows, hand in hand, under Anar the eternal shining bright.

And so here I stand, at the prow of a silver ship, my hair loose and blowing in the wind. I look not back towards the cruel land which has taken him from me, for which he gave his blood; to men now shall lie the charge of overcoming the Dark Lord, of completing what even the Elves could not. The sun shines bright upon the water, I feel the breeze in my hair. It is time to return to the land of my fathers.

~~~~~

But long ago he rode away,

and where he dwelleth none can say;

for into darkness fell his star

in Mordor, where the shadows are.

~~~~~

(May it be/music at end of Gladiator plays in background) ;)

Interesting? Wow, I spent a whole… day and a half on that. When I should have been doing my art coursework. Great. :) Therefore I need nice reviews to make up for the evil looks I will get from my art teacher next week. See, it all makes sense. :) Hope you enjoyed. Almost made myself cry reading it through. Probably only because it was quite late at the time… :D Night.

xxx


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